The Return of the Opera Ghost
by I ALWAYS trusted Snape
Summary: After the fire, someone donated enough money to rebuild the Opera Populaire...But along with the new uprising of popularity comes the infamous Phantom of the Opera.
1. Chapter 1

Three years had passed since the mysterious incident at the Opera Populaire. Most of the Opera House had perished in the fire, but a year after that fateful night, an anonymous patron donated a large sum of money that paid for the entire reconstruction of the once great building. Most of the original workers had left under great paranoia of the return of the Phantom of the Opera, and they were all replaced by eager new students who wanted to be famous. Superstitions faded away, and the Opera Ghost became less than a myth. Other than the lack of fear of what might lurk in the shadows, business was thriving and every seat was sold out each performance.

Among all of the non-believers, however, there was still one young lady who remained faithful to the idea of a masked genius living deep within the catacombs of the Opera House. Her name was Rachel Maria Paradies, a timid and friendless worker. She was neither Lead Soprano nor a chorus girl; her job was to clean the floors, check the props, and dim the lights when night approached. Everyone considered her worthless, but she would stay confident by imagining what would happen is she was to accidentally forget to secure the ropes. It would be disastrous without her, or at least she liked to believe so.

"Rachel," A young woman called daintily. "Can you go down to 'Christine's' old dressing room?" Rachel's eyebrow quirked up curiously. "These girls say they always feel a draft from that room and they hear music."

"There is." She replied softly as she glanced at the disbelieving faces around her. "The Phantom is still here.

_The Phantom is here._

_The Phantom, he knows_

_He's waiting for the right moment_

_He's waiting to emerge._

_The angel sees,_

_The angel knows._

_He speaks to me_

_He sings to me_

_He is not pleased with you ignorant fools_

_Three years too long_

_He has repressed his song_

_The Opera has withered_

_The music has died_

_But the Phantom is waiting somewhere inside_."

Madam Giry stepped in at that moment and took Rachel by her elbow. "Girls, continue practicing and speak no more of the alleged Phantom." She tugged the confused girl into a dark hallway and glowered at her scornfully. "_Those who speak of what they know, find too late that prudent silence is wise…_"

"But Madame—!"

"I have spoken. Continue with your work."

Rachel turned to look down the corridor and noticed that it was one she had never seen before. Did Madame Giry lead her there purposely? It looked too ominous to lead anywhere like a dressing room. She took one step deeper into it, and she swore she heard the subtle sound of a cloak rustling. Rachel continued further until she found it too dark to continue, but curiosity ruled her at this point so she ran her hand along the wall to keep herself steady. Every step that led her deeper into this unknown realm of darkness felt like she was being led to the infamous man of the shadows.

"_Rachel..._" A tender voice sang somewhere in front of her. "_Rachel…_"

"_Yes, I'm here_

_Lead me, I'll follow_

_I'll leave the light behind_

_I'm tired of being blind_

_Please take me to that place_

_That dungeon, the prison of your soul_

_Help me to see_

_Help me to hear_

_Your music sets me free_

_You'll rid me of my fear_

_Help me hear the music of the night." _

"_Child you know not what you say_

_This is a line that none should cross_

_For beyond lies a dark passion that none should posses_

_Secrets lurk where I dwell_

_Monsters come alive and are ready to kill_

_You don't want this fate, my child_

_None should have to delve into this black abyss_

_None should suffer the loss of love_

_So child, you should never cross this point of no return."_

Rachel reached her hand out and was relieved to feel his hand taking hers. "But I wish to anyway."

"Rachel?" One of the chorus girls called. "Rachel! Madame Giry said to check the ropes again!"

"Coming." Suddenly, his hand was gone, as was any hope of being able to wander to his world of unimaginable beauty.


	2. Chapter 2

It was very late now, most likely some high hour in the morning, yet Rachel was still awake sitting in Christine's old dressing room staring at the mirror. She knew that he was somewhere inside keeping a careful watch of what took place in his theatre. He shouldn't be so displeased though, the music did bring in many faithful viewers; however, the music held no meaning. Songs couldn't even be classified as so. They were merely words spoken with a tune. She leaned closer to the mirror having sworn she saw a shadow moving within. His haunting voice was her only reassurance that she had not dreamt their encounter, not even dreams could produce such a lovely voice.

"It's not nice to play games with the mind, Phantom."

His chuckle echoed throughout the nearly empty room. "Haven't I already warned you? I believe I have told you several times to cease your attempts of approaching me."

"You have, just…Oh this is so silly." Rachel stood up and brushed the dust off of her knees. "Why bother approaching you? It is clear that you are only interested in playing. If you should ever decide to stop dwelling in the past, on her, you know where to find me."

"Rachel, there are no ways to return to the world of clarity once you come with me."

She smirked. "And some dare to call me the foolish child. Do you believe there is any reason for me to want to return to this life of servitude?" She laughed merely to spite him. "But then again, why would you want to take me to your secretive lair? Only Christine was allowed there because only Christine could appeal to your scrutinizing ear."

A hand slid around her waist and pulled her against a sturdy brace. "And you believe that she was the only one who has sounded beautiful to me? There has been one other who has sung even more elegantly than her."

"She may have had a good voice, but she was blind. I am not." Rachel turned around and placed her hand on his mask. "She couldn't see what really mattered." Her hand fell down to her side. "Masks can only hide so much, my dearest Phantom."

His hands returned to his side as well. "Farewell, I will be watching."

His figure shifted in the darkness, then he was gone. Rachel stared fixedly at the ground. Perhaps she had gone too far and severed their very delicate relationship. If that was the case, it wouldn't hurt to take one small step forward. After her two years of employment at the Opera Populaire, she had become rather accustomed to the darkness. As a result, she had been able to see how the Phantom entered the room. And another factor that ruled in her favor is that he did not have that hypnotizing power over her as he once had with Christine. She pulled the mirror aside and paused momentarily in awe at the extent of the passageway before her. She quickly ignited a gas lamp then she plunged into the sea of unknown that had inflamed her curiosity for so long.

"_Phantom, dearest Phantom_

_Where dost thou lurk?_

_Why do you hide?_

_Could any deed be so dastardly?_

_Could any scar be so hideous?_

_Phantom, oh my dearest Phantom_

_You have been hurt_

_Life has been cruel_

_There has been no compassion for you_

_Please let me be the one to guide you_

_For as unbelievable as it may be_

_You need me more than you know."_

She stopped walking as the ground before her ran out. Rachel was now faced with the problem of having to cross a glassy lake in her nightgown. How lovely. But now was not the time to shy away from the greatest discovery of her life. So what if she got a little wet? Rachel quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear leaving only her bangs to grace her face then jumped into the icy water. She quickly resurfaced, her teeth already chattering from the cold. But at least she could feel the bottom if she were to tiptoe through it. Worse case scenario—there would be an unexpected drop.

"The extremes I resort to merely to have a conversation with this man," She muttered to herself. "I am truly insane."


	3. Chapter 3

She finally managed to calm her heart from the needle-like stabs that washed over her body. Rachel smiled to herself, this would definitely be something the Phantom had never experienced. Someone actually _longed_ to see him, foolish as it may be. Perhaps it was common for her gender to sway towards the mystery in the darkness, the sigh in the shadows. The water sloshed angrily around her waist, she had disturbed its pleasant slumber.

Suddenly, there was a terrifying noise coming from just beyond the bend. It sounded like an animal dying mixed between the excruciating howls of a man in pain. A ripple danced over the waters surface and Rachel froze.

Silence.

Instinctively, she raised her hand to the level of her eyes before progressing. She peeked around the corner curiously, and there he was—hunched over the organ in exasperation. The water lapped at her waist once again, and, as if he heard, the Phantom straightened his posture and brought his hands to his side. Slowly he turned to look at her.

Rachel's face burned, embarrassed at how she still had her hand raised. She uncurled her fingers casually and did an awkward wave.

"H—Hello." She said while approaching. Her blood was on fire. She didn't know if she was terrified or entranced. All that she knew was that her legs were moving her forward even though she wanted to stay put.

"What are you doing here?" His voice echoed throughout the flooded catacombs.

The Opera Ghost stood abruptly and stalked towards her. Rachel stood still yet again, but her mind was screaming, _Run! For all that is sacred, run!_

He stopped a mere foot away from her as she flinched and yet again brought her hand to her eyes. Reading his pained face was all too easy, even with a mask covering half of his reaction. She slowly let her hand drop and remained staring at him. The Phantom wasn't moving, neither of them were.

"Why are you here? You shouldn't have come."

She rolled her eyes as she brushed past him. "So you can come to me, but I can't go to you? That's not fair." Rachel waved her hand over one of the candle's flame. "Besides, you look awfully lonely."

"If you know what is good for you, go back."

Rachel smirked as she turned her face away from him and approached the organ. "What a cliché." The air was thick with tension as she wandered deeper into his domain. "Have I gone too far and severed our delicate friendship, Phantom?"

"Friendship…" He murmured. "What friendship?"

"I'm offended." She turned sharply and gasped despite herself at how close he was. Rachel felt like her throat was closing; somehow, his cold was enveloping her in an icy haze. "I'm the only one you'll talk to and you don't think we're friends?" She managed to say evenly. "I really am offended."

The Phantom took a step back to bow elegantly. "I apologize," He tipped his head to look at her, "Perhaps I have underestimated you."

"I should say so." She turned away from him once again as he straightened his posture. "I thought you were smarter than to do that. I have, after all, done everything I could to speak with you." Shivers coursed through her body reminding her about her soaking clothes. "Walking through aged water," She spun around and gestured to her pants for emphasis, "Is no fun."

The Phantom's eyes darted beyond her head and she refused the temptation to turn around and see what he was focused on. He brushed past her and lowered a crimson veil to block a room from her sight. She leaned against the stone wall lazily and watched his movements as he returned to stand next to her. Obviously, he had not been forced into such an awkward situation that he had no control over for a span of time. He opened his mouth but closed it unsurely.

Rachel shrugged herself away from the wall and placed her hand on his shoulder. His muscles twinged causing his body to stiffen. "To tell you the truth, I've always been curious about something…"

"Yes?" His voice no longer eased from his mouth; rather, it was ragged and strained.

"What's your name?"

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Ok I know this is short and it took me forever to put up, but I plan on updating more frequently and hopefully the chapters will be longer.

Sorry for the wait, and thanks for your reviews. I honestly didn't think anyone would be interested in this, so thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

"My name?" He repeated in disbelief. "My name…" He shirked her hand away and moved over towards his organ. "It's been such a long time, and I've taken many names."

"Angel, Phantom of the Opera, and Opera Ghost don't count." Rachel said stubbornly while leaning back against the wall. "I want a real name."

"Why should I tell you?" In his black eyes, sparks began to ignite. "You're no different than anyone else."

"Bastard." She whispered. Her word carried on the dusty air and stung at his ears. "That can be your name." Rachel stomped down towards the water's edge and stepped into the petite boat. "Take me back."

If ever there was a time Rachel had been terrified for her life, now was the time when she feared for it most. The Phantom sprinted towards her, snatching a thick rope along the way. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her off the boat only to push her to the ground. A scream shattered her reserve as she scrambled away from him. He froze as she broke into pathetic sobs on the dirt floor. Tossing the rope aside, the Opera Ghost stumbled into the room beyond the veil leaving her to stare after him wide-eyed and petrified.

Rachel leaned forward unto her knees and observed the bruises already forming on her arms. She knew this would happen, she knew she shouldn't have come. She stood up, grimacing at the stab of pain that shot through her spine, and approached a small oak table laden with incomplete operas. Rachel took up his pen took write him a sincere apology.

"Dearest Phantom," She mumbled, "I had never intended to try your brittle patience or to upset you in any manner whatsoever." Rachel paused to refresh the coat of ink on the tip of the pen. "Please forgive me. Should you do so, you know where to find me. Your Rachel."

She left the letter on the table before stepping into the frigid water yet again. Except this time, as she made the journey back, she didn't mind the prickles consuming her body; anything to distract her from the thoughts running through her mind. Her heart was on fire with regrets and everything felt surreal in the most horrid of ways. Rachel shook her head as she though of how foolish she had been for trying to impose upon the Phantom's proclivity to remain guarded. Secrets and the shadowy webs of a painful past were inherent qualities of the masked man. For such a long time she had pursued his trust, and all was lost within several minutes of an unexpected encounter.

She cried out as she finally found a dip resulting in the water to close over her head. Rachel swam to the side and regained her footing. Rachel crossed her arms over her chest trying to warm her heart and lungs. Her breath was now trembling, ragged and it came in short hisses through clenched teeth.

The water's whispers grew into a heavy murmur. Rachel spun around and felt a grin spread across her face as she saw a light around the bend. She rushed towards it knowing full well that the Phantom had read her note and was coming to guide her back. Her smile, however, turned into a frown as she saw that he had not brought the boat, but was plowing through the water as well.

"I, ah, heard you leave." His words dripped like shattered glass. "I was surprised that you didn't take the boat for a less wearisome escape."

"I wasn't exactly 'escaping.'"

He forced a laugh as an attempt to ease the unease brought on by his violent outburst. "You shouldn't have—"

"Gone to you, I know, I know—"

"—Apologized. You shouldn't have apologized. I don't know what came over me. I just let the past control the present and—I don't know." He rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. "Erik."

"Excuse me?" She quickly pulled her hair back as he fixated his gaze on the water.

"My name is Erik."

"Hm. So he does, in fact, have a true name." She mused playfully before catching his glance with hooded eyes. "Raoul sure was a demon to have such a malevolent effect on you."

"So it would seem. Yet, you seem to have me at a loss. How have you come to know about him, or Christine for that matter?"

Rachel shrugged as she began to walk once again. "I was alive when the grand Opera Populaire was destroyed, you know." She cast an accusing glance over her shoulder. "Maybe you should keep your over-theatrical tendencies in your operas and not try to perform them." She pulled herself out of the water and sat on the ledge. "Well, this is my stop."

"Until we meet again." He took her wrist into his hand, lifted it to his face, and, before releasing his hold, placed the lightest of kisses upon her palm.

"Indeed." She breathed.

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Still short. Oh well.

Looking back over it, I have no idea what I was on while writing.

Anyways, thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her sleep. A cold draft was being emitted from the stone walls surrounding her. She kicked the blankets off in restless frustration, and sat up. The other workers slept peacefully around her, each one reeking of whiskey and sweat.

"Celui qui soit arrivé à l'élégance et à la beauté du Français?" She murmured while wrapping the blankets around her shoulders. "This place just screams out how ugly Paris can be."

Rachel stood up and left the sleeping quarters with light feet. She quietly shut the door behind her and turned to continue down the hallway but—

"Madame Giry." She gasped. "You frightened me." Grabbing her chest, she broke into an awkward laugh. "I was just on my way to the—"

"I know perfectly well as to where you were headed." Her scrutinizing tone pierced Rachel's ears. "And I strongly advise against it."

Rachel pulled the blanket closer to her neck. "And why do you?"

"You are so young, you have much to learn. You should give up your childish dreams before they turn to strike you." She quickly reached out and snatched Rachel's wrist to observe the purple tint using the light form her candle. "I see he already has."

She pulled her hand back and tucked it within the folds of the quilt. "That's absurd. This is from securing the ropes."

"I see." Giry lifted her chin to flaunt her superiority. "Your decisions are your own. Just know that flames are marvelous to look at, but once you get too close, they will consume you."

Rachel nodded solemnly and watched as Giry stalked off into the darkness of the night before turning to go to Christine's room once more. If Madame Giry was right and Erik was the equivalent of a fire, it couldn't hurt to go one last time. Besides, Rachel still hadn't received a good reason so as to stop seeing him. Whenever they visited each other, it was filled with nothing more than discussions about how Erik could better his music. Nothing like that one dreadful night had ever threatened to happen again. She shook that memory from her mind as she pushed the door open.

There he stood, waiting like a faithful pup for his master to return. Rachel laughed aloud. "Hello."

"What is so amusing?" He stepped towards her, brushing his hand across his mask to secure its place.

"Nothing. I just was thinking about something." She gestured to the floor before sitting down. "So, why did I have to come tonight? You're note sounded so urgent."

"I completed the opera—"

"Oh that's wonderful!" She tugged on his arm so he would sit as well and he followed her instruction obediently. "Did you bring it? Can I read it?"

"Wait." He turned his head away from her confused gaze. "I don't want to send it to them. I would rather you did. And," Rachel took Erik's hand, the differences of their body temperatures clashing violently until it reached a common ground. "I want you to be the lead."

"I can't sing!" She jumped up. "That's absurd!"

He remained sitting, but kept his watch on her. "I've heard you sing and you're magnificent—"

"But I'm just a concierge! I can't sing."

"Christine was just a chorus girl." His tone was sharp and annoyed.

Rachel took a deep breath before continuing. "But at least she was already somewhat involved in the opera. And this was also before you betrayed everyone's trust. How can you just expect me to walk in with a beautifully composed opera and make them believe I wrote it?" She put her hands to her face in exasperation as she fell to her knees. "Not to mention Madame Giry knows."

"How did she—"

"What doesn't she know? She's as devious as you."

Erik stood up, slightly disgruntled at her last remark. "Shall I take that as a compliment?"

"Oh hush up. My mind is racing, I can't think."

He crossed the room to the mirror, and, keeping his back to her, said, "Follow me. There is much to see."

"What?"

"If you don't believe you can sing, I will teach you."

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Ok so the French part is supposed to mean "Whatever happened to the elegance and beauty of the French?" But I used Microsoft Word to translate it, so it's probably wrong.

And I know it's sort of a cliffhanger, and it's very short, but hopefully this means I will update faster. I have a tendency to write more frequently late at night and I have a week off of school so this can only mean good things.

Read, enjoy, review.


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel stood at last, but kept the distance between them. "I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I have stage fright. I can't sing, and even if I could I wouldn't want to."

"Stage fright?" His tone was dripping with amusement. "Put your childish fears aside and come with me."

"You can't blame me for being so nervous. I grew up in the shadows, Erik." She crossed her arms coldly. "Find some other fame seeking—"

Erik turned around, took her arm, and tugged her through the mirror. "You're being so foolish. Trust me."

"Stop it. I said I didn't want to sing!" She tried pulling away futilely. "What makes you think they'll even give me the opportunity to get the part?"

"Don't worry about matters such as those. I will take care of any and all mundane details."

"Mundane?" She scoffed. "Mundane."

He didn't respond to any further remarks Rachel had to give. Erik spent the rest of the journey to his lair in complete silence, yet bearing a patient ear to the insecure rants about her voice. Before she could sing, Rachel would need to have utter faith in Erik's capabilities in order to amount to unprecedented success. The most alluring factor of the Phantom's plan was that there would be no irritating love triangle to distract Rachel from her practices. He smiled to himself. This opera would be perfectly sublime, and nothing would interfere with its production.

Rachel moaned as they reached the banks to Erik's dwelling. "I never thought I would be so upset to have to be here again."

"Are you quite finished?" He stepped out of the boat, holding his hand out courteously to guide her to the ground. "Or would you rather sit and whine in the vessel for a while longer?"

She glared at him while brushing past, ignoring his gesture to help her. "Well, if you're going to force me to sing, I might as well read the opera. Where is it?"

"I would prefer that you learn to sing first." His gaze was unfalteringly set. "Unless, of course, you would just prefer to butcher it with your underdeveloped voice?"

"Why do I allow our visits to continue?" Rachel's fingers slid over the keys of his organ. "I don't see much of a benefit for me anymore. Now that the 'masked man of mystery' has been unveiled, I see no reason as to why I bother coming back."

"Sing, Rachel."

She laughed at his blunt request. "Oh, that's hilarious."

"You've sung before. What makes this any different?"

"Give me something to sing, then." She sighed as he gave her a piece of parchment with delicate, mahogany letters sprawled across it.

"_Speaking in time with the heart beat_

_Loving that exquisite rush_

_Can't hear your words over my pulse_

_My veins are talking again_

_Whispers, whispers_

_My heart says in whispers_

_Learning, learning_

_How to hold my breath_

_Don't know why, but here it is again_

_Sitting down, but my heart is racing—"_

"Enough," He stated with the air of someone who is always obeyed. "I know perfectly well where you need to improve." Erik began to rummage through miscellaneous piles and drawers until he found a lengthy, silk scarf. "Close your eyes."

"Excuse me?" Rachel set the music sheet down.

"It's really rather simple. Let rest your eyes."

She back away incredulously. "I'm not sure I should trust you." Rachel shut her eyes nonetheless.

"Thank you."

He tied the scarf round her head, taking care to disregard the slight twinge that ensued from his touch. Erik led her back into the boat but instructed her to remain standing. She did. He rushed back to his organ and pressed a key.

"Match it."

"W—What?" She wobbled unsurely. "This is silly. Let me off the boat, or take of the blindfold at least."

He pressed the key again, this time more urgently. "Match the note." Rachel tried, and failed. "You're a little off." Erik pulled on the rope attached to the unstable flooring that Rachel was standing on. The slight motion set her completely off balance, and, with a yelp, she fell into the water. "Hm," He mused as she sat up sputtering. "You seem to be an alto."

"What was that for?" Rachel flopped unto dry ground.

"You need to learn to always be poised, that is key to being the lead." He drummed his fingers along the keyboard while muttering various altercations that must be made to the opera. "Also, it will serve as a form of motivation."

"This is unfair." She wrapped her arms around herself as an attempt to ward off shivers. "I shouldn't have to be punished for something I didn't want to do in the first place."

"You believe your position is unfair? I have to revolutionize the definition of an opera to suit your vocal capacity. Whoever heard of a lead alto?"

Rachel took a cloak of his that was lying on the ground and used it as a blanket. "Personally I don't mind. Perhaps it will shake your persistence."

"Unlikely." Erik pressed another key, this one was a lower note. "Match it."

"Oh, you don't want me to stand blindfolded this time?"

"Do what you will." Erik repeated the note for good measure. "Go on."

This time she tried, she succeeded. They spent hours tapping notes and mimicking them. Erik was forced to give her a break when she began to doze off in between keys. Eventually, he had to carry her into his room to rest. Until the morning light, Erik spent his time performing revisions on his newest obsession. There would be no mistakes, no room for error. He chided himself from previous experiences. This time, nothing would intrude upon his dream of creating a new form of opera, one that would inspire artists to come.

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Yay for update!

I wrote this while watching Lord of the Rings so I was pretty distracted. I hope it's good anyways.

Read, enjoy, review.


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